


Apophenia

by MinkowskisButterfly



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:51:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinkowskisButterfly/pseuds/MinkowskisButterfly
Summary: Dr. Strand is convinced everything is apophenia.





	

Apophenia is the spontaneous perception of connections and meaningfulness of unrelated phenomena. She jokes that it's his explanation for everything. In that way that people pretend they're only teasing about something someone actually does that drives them up the wall. It's really just that simple, though. Humans love patterns and will see them even when there isn't anything there to see. That's what Dr. Richard Strand points out whenever there's something he can't disprove yet about a black tapes case. People see faces where there aren't simply because the mind is so strongly wired for facial recognition. Hear words in strange noises because the language centers of the brain are trying to. It's all very simple, really. 

But when Alex Reagan smiles at him. When she lays a warm hand on his hand or arm when he's going through something difficult. The momentary flash of sadness that he tries not to notice when he puts physical or emotional distance between them. The flush that rises on her cheeks and ears when he compliments her. The way she seems to brighten the moment he walks into a room. All of these unrelated phenomena, he tells himself, are just his mind looking for patterns where there aren't any. Easy to explain away. She's a warm, kind woman. Of course she worries about him, just like she worries about her other colleagues. She's a journalist, her job involves making connections with people. It's simple. He's just imagining what he wants to see. Human nature, even skeptical doctors are subject to the whims of it sometimes. 

He has to tell himself this. It's the only way to control the itching desire to brush her hair out of her face when it starts to come loose from her pony tail. The only way to keep himself from grasping her hand back during those sympathetic touches. To prevent himself from bending down, closing the distance between them and kissing her when she grins up at him. He needs to protect her from these things, unwanted affection from her podcast subject who, he reminds himself yet again, is old enough to be her father and still technically married to another woman. He needs to protect himself from it all. These phenomena, he knows, are related. He's been in love before, after all. 

Of course, knowing he's in love doesn't make it any easier to ignore the warmth he feels when they're up late researching some new aspect of the strange story they're both so deeply involved in and she brings him tea - made exactly the way he likes it, even though he's never told her in so many words how he takes his tea - when she goes to refill her coffee. In fact, it makes it harder to pretend he doesn't notice the electric feeling when their fingers barely graze each other as she hands him the mug. It makes him almost hyper-aware of the barely there sound of her breath catching when he feels that spark of electricity. He tries to ignore it, to focus on the papers in front of him, but he doesn't feel or hear her move away. After a few moments, he turns his chair to see why she's still standing there, and she's looking at him like he's just as puzzling and unsolvable as the cases that brought them into each other's lives. Considering and thoughtful, even a little concerned. 

In another lifetime, he thinks, a different set of circumstances, he would kiss her. In a world where there wasn't this ocean of uncertainty and history that he had to cross in order to remove the short physical distance between them. A world where he wasn't just projecting his feelings onto her. Unconsciously, his eyes flicked down to her lips for the barest of moments before returning to her eyes, and he forced himself to give one of his small, wry smiles. “Did you need something?” He knows it came out too brusque, toeing the line of rudeness, but he needed to say something. 

Alex takes a slow step forward, an almost nervous smile on her face. Dimmer than her usual bright smile, uncertain. Apophenia, apophenia, apophenia, Strand reminds himself as she takes the step. Surely she'd noticed something about the papers, or something behind him. He continues to try to convince himself of this until her hand is on his cheek and her lips are pressed against his. It's a soft kiss, gentle and brief, before Alex pulls away. Before Strand can do anything but freeze in shock. 

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have - I just…” Alex trailed off, her blush deepening as he stared at her, she let out a nervous little laugh, “Sorry again, I'll just go?” 

She had barely taken a step back out of his space before he was on his feet kissing her again, bent down to bridge their difference in height. He, too, kept it short, far shorter than he really wanted to. “Stay,” he replied, voice soft and low, hands cupping her face almost reverently. He was rewarded with a brilliant smile, and Alex surging up onto her toes to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him soundly. 

She was right, he considers, it can't always be apophenia.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't fic often, but I need more of this fandom in my life, so I felt inclined to contribute to that need. So just a short quick little thing.


End file.
